A Detective's Guide to the Galaxy
by fandeomoniuminthestreets
Summary: John and Sherlock squabble over what to watch on the telly and they decide on The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, with fluffy consequences :) Just a cute little fluff fic, please enjoy!


**AN: Just a silly little fluff story. I'm thinking about doing another one somehow involving the Hobbit or Star Trek...what do you guys think?**

**ALL OF THE CREDIT IN THE WORLD GOES TO THE JUMBLE BOOK! Jumble Book came up with the title and gave me some wonderful tips for this story! I'm so sorry for not mentioning you earlier!**

**Enjoy everybody!**

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**A Detective's Guide to the Galaxy**

"Anything good on the telly?"

"Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy is on. It's started already though, want to watch it?"

Sherlock was spread out on the couch, his head propped up by several cushions. With a flick of his wrist he whizzed through the channels on the television, settling on the comedy sci-fi. The main character was complaining about lemons for some reason.

John finished sterilizing the kitchen table (since he swore he saw Sherlock with _moving_ severed fingers earlier on) and he pushed up Sherlock's legs. Sherlock kicked away his hands and made it impossible for John to sit down.

"Hey, Stop that! Come on, don't do this tonight, I'm tired. I want to sit down."

"Sit in your arm chair, then."

"Well I would if you hadn't smeared jam all over it! It's flipping _filled_ with ants!"

"I wanted to see how long it would take for them to detect and harvest a food source. Sit in my chair then."

"I always get a sore back in your chair. I'm sitting here, so move."

"Not a chance."

Sherlock stared at him unwaveringly, daring him to try and sit on the couch. He had his feet pressed up hard against the opposite end, wedging him in. John hated having these squabbles with Sherlock; they were so pointless and got both of them angry over nothing.

John leant down and yanked Sherlock's feet with all his might, unbalancing himself for a few moments. Sherlock yelped as he struggled to stay on the couch and John hastily sat down while there was space to do so. Sherlock glared at him for the brutality, but John could see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He settled himself on the couch and let Sherlock's calves rest partially on his lap (damn his long legs, John thought). Personal space was a long forgotten notion in their flat. John pointed to the telly grumpily.

"Ugh, I'm not watching this, Sherlock. I hate this film." he groaned. John made a grab for the remote but Sherlock pulled his arm away.

"Really?" Sherlock asked. He had presumed he would like it since he'd seen John reading the books multiple times.

"Don't get me wrong Sherlock, the books are great. I just hate who they casted as Arthur Dent. He's far too..." John struggled to finish his sentence, and Sherlock saw something in his friend's expression. John was watching the man on the TV complain loudly about his current predicament in a very similar way that John complained when he was on a case with him. The something occurred to Sherlock.

"You're worried you're like him." John didn't stop him so he continued, "You're worried that you'll never get to go on an adventure let alone enjoy it because you think you're boring and ordinary. You know you complain even though you really are enjoying yourself,which leads you think people won't want to take you on adventures with them."

John looked down at Sherlock's pyjama bottoms and toyed with the loose threads on them. Sherlock knew he had guessed right. He knew a huge insecurity of John's was that he thought he was too boring for the detective's great mind. He was scared that one day Sherlock would grow tired of him and tell him to find a new flat mate. He of course couldn't be more wrong.

How could Sherlock express just how important and not-boring John was to Sherlock? He wasn't good with expressing himself, so what could he do that would get the message across? Then he got an idea and his heart beat just a little bit faster.

"Do you want to know why you think so lowly of yourself?" John looked at him, vulnerability plainly written on his face. There wasn't any going back now.

"It's because you're an idiot."

And he leaned over to kiss him. They were slow, taking their time to comfort each other. John sighed against Sherlock's neck as he kissed his hair.

"Besides," Sherlock said, sliding even closer to John, "you're forgetting that Arthur hooks up with the gorgeous brunette at the end of the movie."

"Shut up Sherlock."

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**AN: Thank you Jumble Book again for helping me!**

** I've never written...physical intimacy (you know what I mean) before, and I don't plan on doing it often. I know my writing doesn't do it justice in this story, so sorry about that. Just re-write it in your head and let your imagination run wild :)**

**Don't forget to review!**


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